


short list of candidates

by BlueGirl22



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: (mechanics of this au specified in notes), Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Awkward Dates, Multi, okay I know soulmate aus are guilty of amatonormativity crimes but this this idea Wouldn’t let me go, uhh I may update tags depending upon which personal hcs I can fit in, yep you read those ship tags right multishippers we're trying em all
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:20:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25928029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueGirl22/pseuds/BlueGirl22
Summary: Good news! Jonathan Sims has just been promoted to Head Archivist at The Magnus Institute! Better news! At the end of his first week at the new job, he gets his Soulmate Revelation! His Soulmate is one of his assistants or his boss! Bad news! That’s as narrowed down as he’s got it! Join Jon as he works through his short list of possible Soulmate candidates and tries not to have an aneurysm.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard | Jonah Magnus/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Sasha James/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 4
Kudos: 55





	short list of candidates

**Author's Note:**

> so in this world at some point in you're life you get the knowledge beamed into you via soothing sensory input that you're in the presence of your soulmate. it can be anytime: the first time you meet, your third date, after four years of being friends, etc., at some point you just are overcome with "oh. they're here."  
> also this was somewhat prompted by this tumblr post (https://archivisims.tumblr.com/post/624458772743700480/start-of-s1-jon-voice-youre-telling-me-that-the) except I made it worse :)

Well. Jon’s first week as Head Archivist could have gone worse, all told. It could have gone better, _much_ better, certainly, but small victories and all that. Jon pointedly doesn’t let himself think anything different as he makes the quick walk from the Tube station to the Institute doors on the Friday of that first week. He won’t entertain the idea that things are already sliding out of control before five days are even up. He goes over in his head all the things that have gone well, or, at least, gone not badly. There were no terrible incidents beyond Monday’s dog situation, Tim and Sasha did some good supplemental research for the Watts statement, the old fashioned tape recorders--though unwieldy--seem to work, and Jon has been thus far perfect at obeying the reminders on his phone to sleep and eat at appropriate times. If he stays after hours today to slog through some more of the statements on his own and gets to bed a bit late, then, well, he should be allowed a day as an outlier.

Rosie waves him in and he heads down to the basement, electing to take the stairs instead of using the lift to travel a single floor. He comes to regret that decision, as the moment he looks down to straighten his tie he’s immediately walked into by Martin, causing him to drop his satchel and spill papers all over the steps.

“Christ, look where you’re going!” he says at the same time as Martin starts babbling “ _Sorry sorry sorry sorry._ ” Jon crouches down and starts to pick up the scattered papers and Martin follows a fraction of a second later, instantly shoving him with a misplaced shoulder.

“Here, let me--” Martin starts, reaching for an open file.

“ _No,_ ” Jon says firmly, snatching the file before Martin can get his hands on it. “I know what order things go in, I’ll do it.”

“But it’s my fault, so I should fix--”

“Exactly! It’s your fault, so don’t make it worse.”

“Oh, right.” Martin stands and looks down at the mess, somewhat lorn. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Leave, I think.” Jon knows he’s being snippy, but Martin must know he’s being interfering as well.

Jon doesn’t look up and barely hears Martin’s quiet, “Okay then. Again, sorry,” as he continues up the stairs.

Good lord, this is going to be a long day.

After sorting himself out, Jon almost gets the rest of his way to his office undisturbed, keyword being “almost.” No sooner has he put his hand on the door handle than he hears a voice behind him.

“Jon?”

He turns to see a bespectacled face poking out of the assistants’ office door, a purple hair band tying back her long passion twists. “Good morning, Sasha.”

“Good morning, Jon. I’m sure you were about to check, but Mr. Bouchard just sent an email saying that he’ll be coming down at the end of the day to give us a first-week pep talk.”

“Oh.” Does Mr. Bouchard think they _need_ a pep talk? Does he think Jon’s underperforming _already?_ God, he’ll really need to put steam on today to have something to show. “Did he say at what time, or just ‘end of the day?’”

“He said half-past four, but--” Sasha clicks on her phone and looks at the clock on the lockscreen-- “I think that means quarter-past.”

“Right, thank you for passing that on.” He can do 4:15, 4:15 is fine. 

He’s about to go into his office again when Sasha once more calls out, “Jon?”

“Yes?”

“Do you think you’ll be able to remember, or should I remind you when we’re getting close?”

Jon almost physically grimaces, but he considers it. He can remember by himself if he sets an alert on his phone, but for that he’d need to remember to set an alert on his phone. “If you wouldn’t mind, yes.”

“No problem, I’ve worked with you long enough to know that clocks mean nothing to you.”

“Well, again, thank you, but if you don’t mind, we’ve both got work to do.”

“Of course, talk to you later.”

They turn and retreat into their respective offices.

The day passes relatively easily. He records a few statements on his laptop, all predictably overwrought and baseless, and has another go at recording the Gillespie file, relieved that it at least goes on tape. He doesn’t want to think about why the two least formulaic statements so far have resisted normal digital cataloging, so he doesn’t. Better to just accept it and push the concern away with thorough background research as to why they’re unlikely to be true.

Some unknown hours after lunch, there’s a knock on his door. “Come in,” Jon calls just loudly enough to get through the thick wood.

Tim peeks in. “Sasha sent me as your alarm clock.”

Jon’s eyes flick to the clock at the corner of his computer screen. _Shit,_ he thinks. “Good lord,” he says, hastily gathering himself and standing up, “4:10 already.” 

“Time she marches,” Tim muses.

Jon runs his fingers through his hair despite knowing it can’t be that messy, trying to do _something_ to make himself feel more prepared for this talking-to. “Indeed she does.” He halts, halfway to the door. “Do you know _where_ Bouchard is planning on talking to us?”

“Breakroom, I expect. More than three seats that can all be made to face the same direction.”

“Right, sensible.” Tim steps out of the door frame as they start making their way together.

A second or two passes without speech. “Have any weekend plans?” Tim asks.

Jon briefly considers lying, then considers saying something noncommittal, then gives up. “Nothing to speak of, I feel like I’m going to be spending more time working than relaxing.” A beat. “What about you?”

“Going to an ice rink with some friends, might see that new _Hotel Transylvania_ for a laugh with them after.”

Jon tries very hard to control his face at the film title. He’d rather not like to get a reputation for being so antisocial that he sneers at others’ personal lives. “Ah, good.”

Tim gives him a look. “Want to come along?”

Jon does actually laugh at that. “I think I’ll pass.”

“Fair enough, _boss_.”

“You’re really enjoying calling me that, aren’t you?”

“Why, shouldn’t I, oh Head Archivist?” Tim laces the title with bubbly emphasis.

“Alright then, Tim, glad to see you aren’t resisting the new dynamic is all.”

They stand in front of the breakroom door and push it open. To Jon’s partial surprise, Mr. Bouchard is already in there, leaning against a counter and holding a mug with a little cartoon owl on it.

“Oh, here already?” says Tim. “Sorry if we kept you waiting, I’ll go fetch the others.”

Mr. Bouchard smiles with a slight nod of his head. “No worries, Tim, there are worse things than drinking coffee in a quiet room for a few minutes. But yes, do get Sasha and Martin.”

“On it.” Tim turns about face and races back down the hallway from whence he came.

Jon steps farther into the room, bracing himself and deciding to get the worst of this over without the others. “I know I haven’t been updating you with daily reports like I really ought to, but I _have_ been making some headway with my plan to digitise all the old statements--”

“I’m sure you have, Jonathan, you don’t need to explain yourself. Starting new jobs can be difficult, I understand if things have been a bit slow. I’m not here to chastise you, I just like doing a first-week chat with any department where there’s just been a major staff change. Don’t worry yourself over productivity just yet.”

Jon nods, a bit at a loss for words. It’s like he had read the script Jon’s been preparing in his head all day and gave it back with notes. “That’s, that’s very nice to hear, Mr. Bouchard, thank you, that’s very kind.”

“Please, you’ve got one of the most important positions in this Institute, it’s ‘Elias.’”

Jon blinks. “Then, thank you Elias. And it’s ‘Jon’ not ‘Jonathan,’ I suppose.”

“Right then, Jon. Have a seat, I think I hear the others coming along.”

Jon takes a seat on the sofa as Martin, Tim, and Sasha enter the room, getting a little bit of a headrush from how much easier that conversation had been than what he was building up to all day. Actually, hmm. The headrush is… curiously strong.

Tim sits beside him on the sofa, Martin and Sasha pulling out chairs at the little circular table and turning them to face Elias. Martin squints at Jon. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, yes, fine,” he says, absently. It’s not really a lie. He’s feeling a bit dizzy, but it’s not unpleasant. Maybe he should actually go home at the right time today, get some extra sleep.

Elias puts down his mug and claps, standing up straight before them in his neat brown suit. “Well, since you’re all here, I’d like to congratulate you all on a week well done. It’s boon so long sonce wo’ve hod a foll archovol stoff hoor…”

No no no, that’s definitely not what Elias is saying. Certainly, 100% not. Jon must be having a stroke or something, he should have said he was feeling oddly. He strains his ears to hear, but the words are getting stretchy and sticky and are almost completely drowned out by the loud but mellow sound of a deep bell ringing, like the bells at St. Paul’s. Judging by how no one else seems to be reacting to overpowering bells, Jon figures this is also part of what’s happening to him. He thinks he should be afraid, or panicking, but it’s oddly soothing. He’s warm down to his toes, he tastes butter and brown sugar, there’s a smell of lilac like used to grow in his grandmother’s window boxes, he feels happy and sleepy and relaxed and--

Oh.

The pieces line up in his head

_Soulmate Revelation._

Well that’s. Exciting. It’s a bit hard to think about what this means as the bell keeps ringing and he keeps breathing in the perfumed air while trying to look like he’s paying attention, so he lets his mind stay blank. The feeling subsides after about ten minutes and he comes flitting back to his senses, just in time to hear Elias say, “That’s about all I have to say to you all. Jon, I take it you might have something to say to your new team?”

“Hmm?” Jon blinks a few times. “Oh, right, yes.” He gets to his feet and expects to falter, but luckily for him the dizziness is now just a memory and he can devote all of his attention to trying to think of something appropriately encouraging. He and Elias swap places, Elias taking a seat next to Tim and Jon standing before the four of them.

 _The four of them._ There are four people besides him in this room. There have been four people besides him in this room since he started feeling the Revelation come on. Jon looks at all of their faces. Martin, Sasha, Tim, Elias. His three assistants. His superior and the director of his entire workplace. One of them is his Soulmate.

Fuck.

**Author's Note:**

> with any luck I'll update at not absurd intervals, but until then I'm on tumblr dot com @bisexual-evanhansen for all tma brainrot needs


End file.
